Never Existed
by BananaBubble75
Summary: Sherlock's gone, and John is the only one who remembers him... Can John find him before he forgets too? (Post Reichenbach) Please review!
1. Chapter 1

"You can stop the joke now guys." I was fed up. Ever since... he... well, he's gone, and no-one remembers him. No-one remembers anything, apparently. They must be joking; who can just, well, disappear without a trace? Seriously? I am the only one who knows his name, knows everything about him. Mrs Huddson, Molly, Sarah, everyone. And that's not all. Mycroft has gone on 'holiday' and Lestrade isn't at the station. I searched yesterday. I just laughed when Donovan asked who on earth he was. Ha. Very funny.

"What joke, dear?" Mrs Hudson asks.

"John, what are you talking about?" Molly questions.

I sigh. "Are you serious? Do you honestly not know who Sherlock Holmes is?" It took a lot just to say his name. I'd locked myself in my old flat for weeks, and when I come out, no-one can remember the world's only consulting detective and the people who know him best are missing.

"Who's Sherlock, John?" Sarah says by my side.

"My best friend." I whisper and walk out of the room.


	2. Chapter 2

The answer machine drones in my ears for what seems the millionth time. Mycroft still isn't answering.

I try Lestrade again but I get a similar reply.

I feel empty, broken. How _can_ no-one remember? It's as if the past 18 months have all been a dream. Maybe if I pinch myself hard enough I'll wake up from this nightmare... Who am I kidding? They will just be joking me. They don't really remember nothing of him... don't they? God, I hope not.

If Sherlock, if he... didn't exist... Of course he did. I can't have dreamt eighteen whole months, surely? No, when I wake up in the morning everything will be back to normal.

Hopefully.


	3. Chapter 3

I wake to the sound of my phone vibrating.

The pillows damp with tears, my eyes are sore and I feel... hollow.

I reach gingerly for the phone, and press to receive the call.

"Hello?"

"John, where are you?"

"Um, who is this?"

"Jim Moriarty. I need your help."


	4. Chapter 4

I never thought that I would say this, but I'm sitting in my flat with Moriarty, insane murderer, drinking tea. I must be crazy, I'm sure of it.

I sat there stony faced while he began. "You need to come with me, John."

I laugh unevenly. "No, I'm not going anywhere with you, you... you..."

"Freak?" He suggests.

"Exactly." I grimace.

"You still have to come."

"No."

"Alright. I'll make you."

All thoughts of resisting vanish as he grabs me... Then everything goes black.


	5. Chapter 5

Awkward doesn't begin to describe the atmosphere as we sit together. Mycroft Holmes, Detective Inspector Lestrade and I stare at Moriarty expectantly. He just smirks, his hands clasped and his head bent slightly. Sherlock's brother speaks first.

"What on earth is going on?" He asks.

"How come no-one remembers Sherlock? It's as if their minds have been swiped or something!"Lestrade adds.

I gasp. "You... you, remember... him too?"

"How could I forget my own brother?" Mycroft questions, and a blush creeps over my face.

"Well, everyone's asking who I'm talking about and I thought..."

"...That you were the only one, yes. Me too, before..." Lestrade gestures to Moriarty, who still has a smile on his face.

"But... you should be... dead?" I recall Molly talking about the second suicide that day, but I'd never brought myself to read the papers.

"I never _died _as such..." He says. "I just stopped , my own heart and didn't breathe for a minute or two, very technical. The blood was easy, childs play."

"And... Sherlock?" I choke. I don't think I want to know what the answer is but it was worth a try. Maybe... if Moriarty could fake a death, surely he could?

He hesatates before answering. The lump in my throat swells unpleasantly and I choke back tears.

"I don't know." He says. "That's why I need your help."


	6. Chapter 6

Moriarty tells us about how he knew Sherlock would jump if he thought he was dead. At that point I wanted to punch him in the face for being so... himself. I just gritted my teeth and let him continue.

"I thought he would deduct straight away that I'd faked, but he didn't. Or he did and didn't show it. I heard his phone call to you, John, very touching by the way, and at that momemt I realised something was wrong."

Greg and Mycroft nodded their heads in agreement, but I was slow.

"How does that mean it's wrong? Just because he's thinking about someone else's feeli-" I pause. "Go on."

"I was too excited that 'The Great Sherlock Holmes' killed himself to do anything about it."

There's silence.

Mycroft breaks it; "How do we find him? And why do you need our help?"

Greg shoots up out of his chair, grabs his jacket and heads for the door. "I know why no-one remembers him! I know how he did that!"

"Where you listening to anything we just said?"

"No, was it important?" He grins and heads out of the door.


	7. Chapter 7

Greg let us into his office hurriedly. Mycroft discarded the idea of going to the station immediately and we decided bringing Moriarty wouldn't go down too well. He sat at his desk, searching his drawers and scanning the computer.

Suddenly he jumps up and points to the screen excitedly.

It shows a file which contains empty profiles which can be edited.

"I've heard the officers talking about this file," he says, "You can change your entire identity through one of the profiles. But it won't delete your old self from other peoples memories."

"So he must have hacked it." I suggest.

"Exactly."

"At least that gives us a start."

He hesitates. "...And an end. We still don't have any proof he did it."

"I have an idea... If he died, then his body would be at Barts, surely? They wouldn't have taken it anywhere else!"

We race out the door and into Lestrades police car.

As we drive, I have a empty feeling in my stomach and I feel that I can't bring myself back to the hospital. It was the building that he... It was the last place I saw him, and it will take courage to go inside again.


	8. Chapter 8

I take a deep, unsteady breath before following the detective inspector into the hospital.

We stand in the reception amongst the nurses, doctors and patients as Lestrade begins to explain to a rather startled receptionist.

It's all too overwhelming, my legs are shaking and I fell pale and faint. I grab the nearest chair and sink onto the hard plastic, regaining my strength.

I see Greg follow a nurse through the glass doors and stand. I wobble slightly before regaining my posture and trail after them.

They suddenly stop again and she shows us to another waiting area. She says it's best if she checked herself.

We sit in the bleak room as she turns on her heels and pads out of the room.

Her face... it looks... familiar, as if I'd seen her somewhere else in uniform, but just not in the hospital...

I shiver. It can't be, of course she can't have been there...

"No." I whisper and dismiss the thought.

"What?" Asks the voice next to me.

"Nothing." I reply.


	9. Chapter 9

They were wrong. He did exist, it doesn't seem right. No, he wouldn't... would he?

I can't believe it. I _won't_ believe it. He's real, I just know he is.

He _did_ exist, and no-one will change my mind about that.

I remember all of the cases, all of the months we solved the crimes, I remember them like they were yesterday, and no-one can take that away from me.

They couldn't find the body, but I saw them take it away, I saw it with my own eyes! How can it not be there? They told me there was only one explanation but I wouldn't hear it. I can tell that they remember him too, that they can't believe it either.

But it seems impossible - how can only four people remember his existence?

"It would take a genius to do that, to create that profile." I mutter under my breath once I've retuned to my flat. "A genius, a high-functioning sociapath, a 'freak'..."

I look at my phone just as it vibrates and smile;

"Charmed."


End file.
